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THE RECALL OF LOVE
TRG • RGCALL
OF • LOV6
THE WESTMINSTER COMPANY LIMITED
OF • LOVe
'Y^-ELL PETER." These words.
\^ «ftraight from the heart of Him
Who, fresh from his e^eri'
ence of mortal infirmity, knew how to
feel for a man dishonoured and broken
IJ sudden weakness, sounded forth
LOVE*" *° ^''' ™^ RECALL OP
The story of Peter is not the most
be-utjful Of the tales that gather about
the Man of Galilee, but it is the most
precious of them all, for it is a story
C|)e laecall of iUtie ?m»
of a man who fell, but, falling, rose
again. There are a thousand ways of
falling; only one of rising again.
Those three nights and two days
glared in Peter's mind through all his
after-years as one long hideous dream.
Its features stood out, clear-cut, indel-
ible; that calm Figure, calm and majes-
tic in spite of the unaccu^omed,
outrageous bonds; the malignant faces
ringing Him round; the rabble crew
crowding about the fire; and then that
girl's face, impudent, gay, triumphant.,
flashing out in the firelight the sudden
challenge that ^uck him with swift
terror so that, ere he knew, he had
iftammered out his fir^ fatal denial. But
clearer th&n all, vivid and penetrating,
C|)e meeall of fLo)at
remained that look of pain and love
that pierced him to the heart and drove
him forth into the night.
Bewildered and dazed with the sharp
agony of that Ebbing glance of love,
he stumbled down a lonely lane, and
in a back alley, wriUiing in pain as each
successive wave of memory flooded his
soul, he passed the long night until the
dread dawn drove him into some darker
But neither shame nor fear could
hold him in his hiding while his Lord
was being done to death; so through
the day he followed the crowd, safe
hidden in its swirling eddies; watched,
impotent with rage and terror while
Ct)e iaecall of iUtie
tfiey frothed their hate againA the Man
who had through the past month
proved His love by deeds of kindness
upon their bodies and by words of heal-
ing upon their souls; watched and
waited with faint lingering hope for
that display of power that would set
Him free; watched in vain.
Did he follow to Calvary ? His letters,
with their clarion call to noble suffer-
ing and their appeal to the agonies of
the Chri^ reveal the eye-witness of
those laA dread pangs of the Cross.
Not with the jeering crowd, not with
that gallant little company close to the
Cross, braving the fury that raged about
them, but from behind the rocks of Cal-
vary, peeping fearfully, he watched the
<m£ %\^t iaeeall of JLtltt
horrible scene. In his own hands he
felt the drive of the nails, upon his own
brow the tearing thorns, and in his own
side the spear-thrust— felt, but dared not
utter his cry. Now lying prone, now
gaiing again in horror, now rocking in
agony, he suffered with his Lord till
that la^ great cry relieved him too.
Through that my^erious darkness he
lay waiting for the end of all things,
but the end was not yet. With quick,
disciplined tread, the soldiers march
from the ground; subdued and terrified,
the rabble and their leaders slink back
to the city, but rftill Peter waits. From
his place behind the rocks he watches,
coveting with how deep a longing a
place in that poor, pathetic little pro-
C|)e iBLttaii of lUtie
ceMion that bean to the Granger's
tomb the limp and pallid body of hii
Lord, watches till all is made safe,
watches till all have gone their ways,
and he is left alone.
Whither now? Ah, whither indeed?
What place in all the world is left for
the man who b-s dishonoured his
name, broken his faith, denied his
Lord? The city? It is overflowing with
the jubilant slayers of his MaAer. The
upper room? Not there. Ah I not there.
There is no place for a traitor in that
band. Peter's sin, like all men's sin, has
cut him off from his deareA comrades.
Is there no place for such as he? Yes,
there is one. Outside the city wall
where they cail their refuse, out to
CDe laecaii of lUtie
Oehenua, the place of uncleanness and
of everUrfting burning, out to that dread
valley -thither a man, burdened with
uncleanness and longing .'or the fires
of purging, may go. On that rugged
ridge, illumined by baleful fires that
never slesp, Peter spends his night. As
its weary hours drag their slow length
along, a que^on haunts him with ter-
rible persiAence, "Why should I, cut
off from God and from my comrades,
any longer Uve? What is left for
me? Why should I live to meet the
morrow?" So, spent, distraught and
tempted to his doom, he watches the
night draw toward morning. Suddenly
through the grey light he sees a figure
flying with hurrymg ^eps as if pursued
by ten thousand demons, and making .
%l^t laeeaii of iLotie ?m»
towar his hiding. Horror-Aricken, he
watches the hunted man fasten a rope
round the bough cf an overhanging
tree, with trembling hands adjust it
ftbout his neck, then hurl himself head-
long, tree and all, down upon the rocks
below. Oazing in fascinated terror,
Peter beholds in the glare of the burn-
ing fires the diAorted face and the
mangled body of his fellow-disciple.
"Alas! poor Judas I You waited for
no look of piercing love when you went
forth into the night." A new terror
shakes Peter's soul, hunts him from
that valley of cursing and drives him
up the Aair to the upper room where,
abjecft and trembling, he Elands, waiting
the opening of the door.
Ci^e fSittm of JLotJc
Who opened to him? Was it the
beloved disciple? He was ever quick
at opening doors. And did he say,
"No, Peter, there is no place here for
cowards?" Ah I no, not that, but with
hands out^etched, "Come in, Peter,
come in, we need you sorely here."'
And did Peter take his place with never
a word? We know he did not. Peter
had done with cowardice and lying.
With relentless self-abasement, he iftood
and told them all, with sobs and tears
and heart-wrung groanings, his sin and
shame, ending with this bitter cry, "And
on me cursing He ca^ a look as if He
loved me ^11. Oh, could I but tell
Him my sorrow and my love. But this
may never be." With humble compas-
sion they took him to their hearts, too
C|)e iaecall of lUtie
conscious of the coward in themselves
to be hard with the man who, through
cowardice, had denied and suffered.
And then through the morning light
sounded clear and sweet the sacred
trumpets from the Temple courts near
by, announcing that the Sabbath Day
The Sabbath Day I What mockery
was this? The Great Pea^-Day was
upon them. What fiend's humour was
this? What Sabbath of re^ and holy
joy for them while their Lord, the Son
of God, lay dead in Joseph's tomb.
Surely no more exquisite turn of misery
was left them now. Dazed and dumb
and huddled together, they likened
through the long hours to the successive
^^ti CDe mecaU of %Miit
chantings of the priests, to the clear-
sounding trumpets and the clashing
cymbals that lead the people in their
jubilant songs upon this high and holy
day ( national memorial and of na-
tional triumph. Alas for them I With
their Lord all their high hope for Israel
Night falls. The last glad trumpet
note has ceased, the sounds of the
^eet die down. The city lies in
slumber, while they, ^hipid with misery^
and despair, wait for the morning.
The men doze off into horrid dreams,
only to wake startled .j the old pain,
and to doze again. But the women
do not sleep. Their finer spirits rise
victorious over the sluggish flesh, and,
'li^t iaeeau of JLoMt ?)^
besides, they have a business on hand.
Long ere the dawn grows grey they
are alert and moving, signalling each
other in the dim light. Softly they
open the door, ^eal down the ^ir.
Only Peter of the men sees and under-
iftands. In othqr days he would have
been at their side, but to-day this is
not for him. It is the women's work,
for their hands are gentle, their touch
tender, their hearts true. It is for them
to bathe and aroint and garb that
precious body for its final re^. It is
not for him, unclean and coward as
he is. So he waits behind, and over the
sad hours of the pa^ days and nights
his heart makes weary pilgrimage,
dwelling with fresh grief on each in-
cident of shame.
.jr?e fltood aniUd ihcmall ha sin and ehame.
€I)e iaeeall of Hotie
But hark I There is a sound of run-
ning feet I Along the street and up the
^airs they come. The door bursts
open, and the women with white
faces and staring eyes fling forth their
news, their glad, terrifying, glorious,
unbelievable news. The tomb is empty I
There is a vision of angels I He is
"God of Abraham I God of the living,
ran it be?"
Peter is down the Aairs and up the
^eet, running hard, after him John.
Nearing the sepulchre, John shoots to
the front. What slowed Peter's feet?
Not age, but a sudden shock of mem-
ory. The man whom he is running to
C|)e i&ecau of Hotie
see is the Man he has denied. Well
indeed may John run swiftly to the
meeting ; he has m ver failed his
But they may save their breath.
There is nothing to see. The tomb is
empty, rifled of its dead. Rl .ed? What
then of these folded robes? These pro-
claim no ha^e. Greatly wondering,
but imbelieving, they return to their
company. It is after all only a silly
woman's tale. The gho^y light of the
dawn working with imaginations dis-
tempered and ditftraught with grief ex-
plains it all.
Upon them as they dland in eajg;er
excited talk, the door opens again, and
y%> CDe iaccall of iUt>c
a woman Aanda among them. It is the
Magdalene, calm and controlled, but
with eyes and face aglow with the ex-
ultant glory of the Resurrection vision.
"He is alive!" and her voice thrills
through their hearts. "He is alivel I
have seen Him with these eyes I 1 have
held Him by the feetl He knew mel He
called me by my name!" She pauses
m rapture. "By my name I- and He
gave me a message to you all."
They crowd hungrily upon her. "And
He gave me a message to-»ahl she
sees him shrinking in the comer -"to
•|To me?" says P-ter, faintly.
"Yes, to you, Peter."
"No, no, not to me. Not to me."
Ct)e ttetall of %J>tt
••Ye«, He said dWtindUy, 'Tell Peter,'"
and she gives her message.
But Peter is gone. Down the iUirs
again and through the streets. Why
does he rftumble so? The morning
light is good now. Ah, the tears, rap-
turous, raining tears make the walking
bad, and he is in harfte to find his
Lord. With one swift leap, his heart
has passed from despair to faith, know-
ing that such a message can come only
from his own loved Marfler.
Whither is he going now? Out of
the ci'.y gate, but not to Calvary, not
to the tomb. That is no place for a
living man. Out to the old trydting spot
on Olivet goes Peter, his eyes weeping,
C|)e iaeeaU of lUtie
but his heart tingling with joy, up to the
garden where they were wont to meet.
At the gate he reverently pauses, then
softly passes into the olive shade.
"Ah I" he says, with swift remem-
brance of the hour, "this is the spot
where I slept. Shall I ever sleep
again?" He draws slowly to where
under the trees the grass is sodden and
beaten down. "Here, here it was He
lay." Down upon the trampled turf he
ca^ himself, his face pressed hard
upon the sod, his fingers clutching the
grass while anew he sobs forth his
penitence. "Oh, to see Him once again,
to tell Him of my love." His sobs
grow quiet, and he becomes aware in
the Aillness of a Presence over him,
C|)e iaeeall of lUtie r^^
while he waits awe-iftricken, scarce
breathing, that he may hear if He
speak. There they had their meeting,
the sinner and the Saviour.
"Somebody came and lifted me.
Out of my sin and misery,
Somebody came^ oh, who could it be,
Who could it be but Jesus?"
Was it a moment, or was it an hour?
Peter never knew; but when he came
to himself he was treading the air on
his way back to the city. They who
met him wondered at his face. "I have
seen Him," he cried to them all. "I
have seen him again; and HE IS JUST
THE SAME! HE IS JUST THE
SAME I" Through the company like
^Wi C|)e iRitali of JLotje
fire in a fore^ ran the word, "Simon
has seen the Lord." All the while
among them, Peter moved with a look
on his face, tender and subdued as of
a little child, and to all who met him
his one word was, "I have seen Him;
HE IS JUST THE SAME."
Tell the world that Jesus is the
same. The shock of the Cross has left
His great life unbroken. The chill
of the tomb has not touched His
Tell the sick of the world He is the
same, his sympathy as quick. His help
as ready as of old.
Tell the outca^ He is the same, His
C|)e mecall of lUMt T^^
fine chivalry making Him their cham-
pion as before.
Tell those who mourn their dead He
is juA the same, His word as mighty,
Tell the whole world, burdened with
its sin and its .sorrow, that Jesus,
though vidtor of the tomb, through the
glorious risen Lord, is the same; as
much a man as ever, as ^ong and
tender as when He walked with the
joyous crowds by the sunny waters of
GaUlee: JESUS IS THE SAME.
The ^ay was done; the world's great
day. How sweet was the night, how
grateful, after their long nights of
C|)e iaeeall of Hotie
agony, its re A I He had been with them
all, and, leaving them His peace, had
passed out of their sight. They were
alone again, yet not alone, for they
knew He was alive, and, therefore, near.
The my^ic spell of that Presence was
^11 upon them, and the wonder of His
vidtory over death ^11 filled their
"He is the same/ - vsed Peter to his
friend, "and yet, H^ is not the same."
"Where lies the change?"
"That I cannot tell. His look, His
tone, His bearing when He spoke to
me the word of pardon — ah I I know,
it is that He is a King."
%\)t laecall of g-ot}e
•'Said He nought to you of your — ?"
"Of my sin? Nay, one word only,
as I poured it forth, 'Speak no longer
of your sin; it lies buried in my tomb.'
Then it was He spoke mo^ like a
King, as if He had won the right to
be^ow His pardon where He would."
Thenceforth that became another of
Peter's great a-inouncements : IN
JESUS' GRAVE LIES MAN'S SIN.
Oh, wondrous grave to hold a world's
sin! Oh, glorious pronouncement to
men oppressed with sin! It is your
right to bury it in Jesus' grave.
One other teaching came to Peter,
I'. ; 1 1
<^td %\)t laecaU of ILtMt
but not on that day. With the passing
years it grew upo.i him, and ever grew
more precious, till in old age he fed
his heart upon it.
At la^ came a day when they led him
forth to meet his doom. And when
they would have laid him on his Cross,
one word alone, and with a calm smile,
he spoke, "Suffer my head to lie where
lay His feet." And so they crucified
him, unafraid, for in his ears sounded
the music of that fir^ glad message,
•'Tell Peter." And he knew that
THROUGH JESUS* GRAVE LAY
THE PATH TO LIFE.
Oh, glorious word of "lively hope"
for men appointed to death:
CDe iaecall of ILotie ?^
Through Jeaus' grave lies the path
Ob, vanquished grave of Jesus whose
chill could work no change upon His
Oh, deep, deep grave of Jesus whose
depths can hide a whole world's sint
Oh, glorious grave of Jesus through
whose gloom lies the immortal path-
way to Immortal Life!
"Tell Peter," He said; and to Peter
and the rerft, "Tell all the world."
IT IS THE RECALL OF LOVE.
friHUtl t>> MmtiU. Wal—H * Vino. U; LotuUm hhW Afllltury, Cn^md.